You Belong To Me

Chapter two:

Scott opened his eyes. He knew he wasn't dead. He had been pricked by the needle. The only way he knew this was because his consciousness was still painfully active. Despite this, his surrounding made him feel dead, or at least in some fresh level of hell. He was sitting gin an old wooden chair in a shabby kitchen. The window over the stained sink was grubby and covered with lace curtainettes. Over the curtain rod was a single long, yellow LED bulb, buzzing and crackling, the foggy glass contained a few dead flies. It made the whole room - painted a cream color- appear yellow.

He expected to be tied up, so he was mildly surprised to find that he could stand up from the chair (Albeit, on shaky legs). He felt much like a baby giraffe attempting to stand for the first time. Nobody came running down the hall at him to hustle him back into the chair, so he took a a couple steps, reaching up with a shaky hand to brush his neck. He felt the small bandaid covering where the needle had entered his skin. Rather kind of him...

Scott's shoes tapped against the dirty hard wood floors and he peaked around the corner. There was hallway with floral, yellow paper. Scott felt sick all of a sudden, a wave of nausea overtakin ghim.

"Ah, you're awake." A cheerful, distinctly British voice said from behind him. Scott jumped, he whirled sourness too fast and became dizzy, crumpling to the floor. "Aw, a little woozy, are we?" The man said, grinning his perfect, straight teeth. Scott's stomach churned again, and he was almost certain he would throw up on the spot.

"N-no! Stay away! Stay there!" Scott cried, shoving himself backwards on his hands.

"Alright, alright. Don't strain yourself, darling." The man said calmly.

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He was so close to his room, all I had to do was gently guide him in there. I took another step and Scotts beautiful brown eyes widened in fear. He continued scooting backwards, closer and closer to the open door. I had no intention of locking my precious baby in there, I was quite certain Scott would stay in there willingly.

I watched Scott's hand bump the door frame. The man whipped around quickly and scrambled into the room, palms slapped the hardwood floors and then slammed the door. I smirked. All secure.

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Scott didn't know why he went in the room, it seemed like a good idea in the moment, but now that he was in there, he realized it might not have been a very bright one.

The room was small with two nightstands, a dresser against the wall opposite a queen sized bed. There were two lamps, both were off, the window being the only source of light. The unblocked window.

Scott jumped up and ran over to the window and tried, desperately, to push it up or push it or pull it or anything, but to his dismay, it didn't budge. He searched it desperately for locks, but found that they were already unlatched. Looking outside he noticed a row of nails on the outside, holding gate seal to the lip.

"No..." Scott whispered. Stumbling back to the bed and sitting on it in dismay. It was soft, at least.

He took this moment to look at his knees. Blood stained his pants, and there were tiny pebbles stuck in the torn flesh. He grimaced, his stomach sinking. He went to pull on out, but his arm went limp and tingly and his knee stings he cried out softly, tears burning in his eyes.

He laid back against the bed, legs handing over the side. Exhaustion over too him, the weariness from the run, mingled with the drug, he couldn't stop himself from drifting off. His dream ended with him falling. Falling all the way to the base of the cliff that was supposed to take his life.

Scott sat up in a cold sweat, jerking hard from his dream fall. After several beats of silence, as the dread resettled in his system, a knock resounded on the door, causing him to fly from the bed, knees burning in retaliation.

The door cracked open and the man stood there, holding a plate with food on it. A roll, chicken breast. Scott felt trapped like an animal.

"It's alright, doll." The man said, setting the plate on the the bed and making his way towards Scott, arms in front of him. Scott pressed himself against the wall, shrinking down to sit with his knees against his chest. "Tsk. Look at your knees, poor thing." The man cooed softly, in an endearing tone, crouching in front of Scott.

"Don't hurt me!" Scott yelped, holding his hands in front of himself.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Scott." He reached out and brushed Scott's cheek. "In fact-" He stood up, brushing his hands on his legs. "I'll return in in just a moment." He left the room, the door was still left open. Scott considered running, he remembered the door in the kitchen. But it wasn't smart, he would easily be caught. He wasn't athletic in the slightest. So instead, he wobbled over to the plate of food on the bed. It actually smelled fantastic. His head swam and he caught himself on the mattress, slowly lowering his body to the ground.

"Nng..." He moaned in pain and distantly acknowledged the man coming back into the room.

"You alright, Scotty?" He asked. Scott couldn't deny the concern he heard in his voice. He wanted to say something or push the man away, but the second he lowered himself to the ground, he felt himself slipping away.

The man knelt in front of him and he quickly registered that there was nothing he could do. He kicked out, but it felt like pushing through concrete. He felt firm hands grip his thighs and pushed his legs down. He sobbed again, but gave up, falling limp against the nightstand.